One could be excused for wishing that the dating game had been based on common sense and not the vagaries of chance. Luck unfortunately plays a huge role in sorting out the goats from the sheep. Before someone accuses me of comparing relationships to a Casino, allow me to introduce you to the defining moments along the relationship curve.
Statistics can be manipulated to give a slant to just about anything. So if I assert that any man asking for a date has only a 25% chance of success, even if he is Brad Pitt, you are forced to accept this version, as the absolute truth.
Assuming she said ‘Yes’, that’s your 25% right there, you lucky boy.
Presuming she says ‘No’ you have to take into account that a woman’s ‘No’ is made up of: -25%, she just is not into you; 25% – she has a significant other and 25% -she thinks you are either too old or too young.
What about all the factors that make up the dating package? This is my theory and I have a poetic licence to warp the stats my way. Let us presume you have hit the proverbial jackpot and have a date. Let the game of chance begin.
1.You meet someone new and straight away, you wish you were somewhere else, with someone else.
2. You think this could be the one and ask for a date. The answer is ‘No’.
3. She takes one long look at your inner CV (the one pasted all over your face) and leaves you standing, faster than Michael Schumacker .
4. She accepts and 3 minutes into the date, you wish an Alien would beam you up to anywhere, other than in her company. You leave stage door right, mumbling an appropriate excuse about little green men and know you are a Lucky Man.
5. The date goes well and the next and the next – suddenly you are at that mystical and frightening place, called a sexual relationship. Here within seconds, at any given time, your world can be for ever changed, by a variety of quirks, physical anomalies and sheer incompetence. Once again Luck has struck. Get out of there, clutching the shreds of your dignity and thank your lucky stars.
6.The physical side has exceeded your wildest dreams. A few weeks later, you move in together and now the pain begins. Your stuff is not your stuff anymore – it’s ‘our’ stuff. That cute little whistle as she exhales now sounds like a steam train at the Goodwood shunting yards and her cat thinks you are the greatest cushion the world has ever known. You suddenly feel like Pollsmoor Prison has closed in on you. This is where you do a Steve McQueen Great Escape – if you’re lucky.
7.Things go so well, you pop the question. I could mention the element of luck, if she were to say ‘No’, but why spoil the party.
She says ‘Yes’ and that, my friend, is where you discover just how lucky you are in the biggest game of chance known to man. You have conquered the dating game – don’t stop at Go, don’t collect your R200, and don’t look back. Remember Lot’s wife, who probably invented the Lotto.
If you are really lucky, things will work out fine. If not, you get to play the game all over again and you won’t have learnt a thing from what happened the last time round because the dating game is a woman’s domain and you, my friend, are just there to entertain.
That is why God in his infinite wisdom, gave us less of a feminine emotional side.
How else could we hope to cope with what the fates have in store?